Review: The Sessions

On creating his independent ensemble drama Shortbus, John Cameron Mitchell was interviewed stating, “There is such a reluctance to address sex as an inherent part of the human experience in this country… the true perversion to me is crushing it and hiding it.” The subject material of The Sessions is hard to approach without a smirk, an assumption that this is a mature yet raunchy comedy because of this instilled perception of sexuality as a humorous taboo. Amidst the innumerable delights of the film is a shift in perception on sexuality as a source of naivety and pureness, an essential human experience that shouldn’t necessarily be shamed. The film fully captures sex in all the frank and complex nature that it is; painful, enlightening, spiritual, and developmental. Moreso, the filmmaker uses the experience as a device for a foil for all the characters involved, and the ingenuity of them therein. The result is easily one of the most poignant movies I’ve seen in recent memory.

           

The story follows Mark O’Brien, a prolific poet who suffered from polio at a young age, leaving him paralyzed and confined to an iron lung for his entire life. After having his heart broken by a caretaker, he decides he wants to lose his virginity with the help of a sex surrogate, a woman who helps disabled persons get in touch with their body and be able to express themselves to the fullest. The film follows the consequential relationships that surround the situation; with his priest (William H. Macy), the sex surrogate (Helen Hunt) and his caretakers.

The Sessions is one of those movies that is blessed with two functions that work expertly. On one hand, it’s light-hearted, immensely watchable and entertaining, and induces some big “aw, shucks” laughs throughout. On the other, it’s poignant, insightful, and layered, with plenty of sincere revelations for viewers to deconstruct. The film shines as a character piece for Mark and instantly the audience is wooed by his undeniable boyish charm. Mark is so optimistic and jovial despite the condition he has spent his life in. His attitude that “he believes in a God with a sense of humor” is undoubtedly inspiring, his relentless spirituality inspiring for anyone struggling with their own faith. The film is a testament that miracles don’t necessarily reaffirm the existence of God, but the inspiration that can be found where miracles don’t happen but life still goes on.

All of the characters are flawed, but the director does a good job of fleshing out the rough edges and giving us a sense of sympathy for everyone on screen. Helen Hunt gives off a nurturing vibe that provides solace during Mark’s trials; although, brief unprofessional aside, Hunt has not aged gracefully, looking like a PSA ad about the negative effects of botox.

The sexual awakening of Mark serves as a foil for the audience to relate to his lifelong struggles. One comes to understand the magnitude of his disease, the life experiences he’s been kept from, and the feeling that he’s responsible for disasters that occur around him. As a poet he’s so expressive and in-tune, but his life is merely an observational experience, not a practiced one. His eager lust for life is the biggest spot of sympathy, but even more of a concussive blow is his struggle with love. Mark has so much to give, and is adored by women who can’t give the same love back to him. We see the women struggle with this, but identify more with Mark’s status as a pariah of society.

While Mark’s struggle is with using his body as a form of expression, we’re able to see Helen Hunt’s character struggling with expressing herself with words. It serves as a solid foil of the juxtaposition between humane struggles of emotional engagement vs. the physical and equating them. The audience is able to create a bridge between the importance of the human experience to remain engaged in a dialogue with the physical experiences one endures, and a more universal handicap that we may be more familiar with relative to the physical stunting that Mark is going through.

The result is a film that, like Shortbus, uses sex merely as a symbolic overtone for the rich story at hand. It’s witty, light, heartfelt, unique, and will leave an impact on the viewer for quite awhile after they leave the theater. The Sessions is the kind of story you relay enthusiastically to friends, unable to contain your excitement about what a beautiful experience one has just gone through; and isn’t that the kind of magic one hopes to achieve with every trip to the movies?

Grade: A